


Snowed In

by starlight_and_seafire



Series: Damerey Creations Week 2020 [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Pining, Roommates, Unrequited Love? Not on my watch!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_and_seafire/pseuds/starlight_and_seafire
Summary: In the face of a raging blizzard, Rey Skywalker is stuck inside for three long days in the small apartment she shares with one of her best friends.In other words, this was a nightmare.
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico (background), Poe Dameron/Rey
Series: Damerey Creations Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985257
Comments: 43
Kudos: 95





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 2 of Damerey Creations Week, using the prompt Snowed In.
> 
> The fic is rated M for some curse words and some steaminess at the end. The remaining chapters will be posted after Damerey Creations Week concludes. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

_This was a nightmare._

Her stupidly hot roommate was smiling his stupidly attractive crooked smile at her, his dark, curly hair perfectly tousled (and how unfair is it that _this_ is what his bedhead looks like?!), and stretching his arms high above his head, showcasing his biceps at the same time his t-shirt rides up just far enough to reveal a sliver of perfect, tanned skin just above his hips.

And she . . . well, she had fallen asleep at their kitchen table, and she’s pretty sure there’s a dry, crusty line of drool from her lips to her jaw, an angry red indention from where her head had rested against her spiral-bound notebook all night, not to mention that no matter how or where she sleeps, she always wakes up with her hair a rat’s nest, sticking up in ways that somehow defy gravity.

She knows she’s not an attractive sleeper. She knows this.

So it was completely unfair that, by virtue of her impossibly sweet and attractive friend becoming her impossibly sweet and attractive roommate, she now knows he’s also impossibly attractive immediately after waking up. And it’s even more unfair that she has to deal with this before coffee.

But mostly, it’s all completely unfair because her impossibly sweet and stupidly attractive friend-slash-roommate is way out of her league, and she has to ignore the way her stomach tightens and her heart flutters whenever he’s around.

And the yearning. God, she _hates_ the yearning. It’s so annoying.

It’s only somewhere between absolutely hating Poe because of how much she _likes_ him, and trying to clean up her mess of electronics and tools and notes that were scattered on the table, that she realizes that the sun is streaming in the window way too brightly and—

She glances down at her watch. “Oh my god!” Suddenly her adrenaline is pumping, and she’s about to scamper off to her room, because she’s _late_ , and shouldn’t Poe be dressed and getting ready to leave too? She’s already halfway across the kitchen when she comes to a sudden halt with Poe blocking her path to her room. “Why are you just standing there?”

When she’s not off at night classes at the local university, the two of them work together at a local advocacy group run by Leia Organa. And while their boss is amazing, and very often forgiving, Rey doesn’t want to let her down, even if Leia would just wave off her tardiness with a smile and a request to make up the time later.

Poe just grins at her. “Did you forget the forecast?”

 _The forecast?_ She has the faintest of memories from last night of listening to Poe chattering away as he dug into a cup of yogurt while she cleaned up a part she needed for her project, when both of their phones chimed in unison. She had glanced down at her phone to read the alert but quickly returned to work, the blizzard warning escaping her memory moments later.

At that, she turns and walks back the way she came, passing the chair where she had fallen asleep until she reaches the window. She pushes back the curtains and gasps. She can see nothing but white and gray, an angry wind pushing the snow around, no doubt drifts of snow building up on the ground that she can’t see.

She turns back around just in time to see Poe punch his arms in the air and cry “Snow day!” Then he’s walking to the kitchen cabinets, pulling out two coffee mugs as he starts to prep their morning coffee. “Looks like we’ll be stuck in here a few days at least. So roomie,” he says, tossing her that way-too-perfect smile over his shoulder, “What do you want to do the next few days?”

The realization washes over her like a wave of lava, setting her skin on fire.

She’s going to be trapped inside her apartment with her stupidly attractive, impossibly kind friend slash roommate.

Her mouth goes dry.

 _This was a nightmare_.

* * *

Rey jumps into the shower, Poe’s promises to have breakfast waiting for her when she’s done urging her along faster. He’s a _fantastic_ cook.

Just another reason to hate him.

Early on, back when she was still living with Finn, Finn had invited his new girlfriend over to their shared apartment so Rey could get to know Rose. Of course, Rey had immediately fallen in love with Rose. Soon, the trio often found themselves at the bowling alley, and not just for the place’s cheese fries. In the end though, it was Rose and Rey’s enjoyment at finding numerous ways to heckle and trash talk the apparently halfway-to-pro bowler Finn that kept them coming back, even if he usually trounced them in the final score. But of course, much like those bowling nights, that very dinner had turned into a quartet when Finn had invited Poe to join them too.

It was there, with Finn’s panicked “Oh god, I asked Rey to check on the stove” ringing out through their apartment, followed by Poe dashing in to help a very-less-than-pro cook Rey before she set the apartment on fire ( _“I had it under control,” she yelped, though the smoke rising from the pan she had only just started working with told that she very much didn’t have things under control)_ that Poe learned that Rey . . . was best not left alone in the kitchen.

Which was fine with her. Cause again, he was a horribly fantastic cook.

Rey changed into a pair of sweatpants and her favorite t-shirt, a decade old and ratty as hell, and let her nose lead her to the kitchen.

She stops short as she walks in though. “I was only gone half an hour!”

“Yeah, why were you even gone for half an hour?” Poe’s puzzlement quickly turns into a feigned leer, as if she didn’t know better. As if she didn’t know that Poe was a big ol’ softy who always wore his mother’s ring around his neck and treated his big ol’ corgi like a big ol’ baby.

For all that she had tried to rush her shower, she also had spent way too long conditioning her hair and shaving her legs. She doesn’t know why she decided to shave her legs.

Even worse, she _does_ know. She kind of hates herself right now for it. That horrible, fantastic cook, who is stupidly attractive _and_ a big ol’ softie, who is also _way_ out of her league.

“Come, sit!” Poe ushers her to a chair, grabbing the bacon from the counter and placing it on a table already filled with eggs, sausage, croissants (and to be fair, she’s the one who had purchased them from the store the day before). Then he gives her a wink as he pushes the plate of cinnamon rolls closer to her, bypassing everything else.

She grabs for one immediately, hoping that having her cheeks full of cinnamon roll and looking like a chipmunk will conceal the fact that those very same cheeks must be flushing red based on how warm she suddenly feels.

It’s no secret that she has a sweet tooth. It’s no secret that she often prefers starting with dessert whenever she can. And most of all, it’s apparently no secret to Poe that cinnamon rolls are her favorite.

_Curse that man. Why does he have to make things so difficult?_

* * *

Next come the board games.

Poe pretty much decides to bring out their entire collection from the closet. She just stares at the stack incredulously, before Poe yelps out, his body practically thrumming with excitement, “It’s a fucking blizzard outside, you know how many games we can play?!” She just snorts and lets him choose the first one they play.

Of course, letting him choose first meant he chose chess. She’s no slouch, but Poe has a brilliant tactical mind.

When he walks away with an easy victory, she just huffs and folds her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at him as he begins to gloat. She never had much patience to really learn the intricacies of chess, while Poe?

Poe just smiles, not even trying to hide his satisfaction at chalking up the day’s first win. “Your choice.”

He clearly thinks he’s going to win again. He might be the brilliant tactician, but if there’s one thing that can be said for the both of them, it’s that they are both incredibly competitive.

She smirks back at him as she pulls the Monopoly box from the bottom of the stack, as if he had wanted to try to hide it from her.

If there’s one thing that could be said for her, it’s that she can be absolutely _ruthless_.

Second game goes to Rey.

They pause for lunch _(and it’s fucking grilled cheese and tomato soup. It’s her favorite on cold days, and not only that, but it’s the best she’s ever had. Horrible, difficult man.)_ Then there’s a long Zoom call with Finn and Rose, apparently high on sugar and more than a little champagne, and afterwards things devolve into almost two hours of YouTube videos, including a marathon of corgis being, well, adorable. Bee seems to enjoy it almost as much as his humans, especially since he spent it snuggled in between them getting far more belly rubs and head scritches than he can handle, at least based on how his back leg twitches furiously with pleasure the entire time.

By that point, they grab a snacky sort of dinner, bread and cheese and meats and popcorn (she refuses to be embarrassed by her choice to add the popcorn, she adores popcorn). And then they settle in for Scrabble.

Here, the two of them are more evenly matched. Between her literature degree and kindle, and Poe’s degree in filling the bookshelves to the breaking point, mysteries and the classics intermingling with his penchant for romance novels, both of their vocabularies are rather large.

It doesn’t stop them from arguing though.

Really, there’s not much that can stop them from bickering with each other. It’s one of their favorite pastimes. Poe tells her it keeps him on his toes, while she’ll just smirk back and tell him it’s her favorite form of exercise.

Tonight is no different.

She points an accusing finger at him as he places his tiles on the board. “That is not a word!”

“I am telling you, it is most certainly a word!”

“Oh really? Where? Huh? In some alien language in a galaxy far, far away or something?”

He just raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair, far too relaxed at her insult. “If you think it’s not a word, you know what to do.”

She quiets and stares at him with an assessing eye. He’s a horrible liar. She knows that. Everyone knows that. But God, her feelings for him messes with her mind so much that right now she can’t really tell if he’s lying or not.

She hates him. Horrible, difficult man.

She throws her hands up in the air. “Fine! I challenge!”

A minute later, she slumps in her seat as he tallies up his points.

Apparently it was a word.

She’s still glaring at him when she takes her next turn, still feeling off kilter that she thought he might have been bluffing but he hadn’t been. He had been right. Why was it so difficult for her to know what he was thinking? Everyone else can. Why can’t she?

She’s just beginning to relax again as he puts down his tiles, but as she glances down to check out his word, cause maybe this time he’s bluffing, she nearly chokes on her soda.

_Love._

It’s taunting her. Four tiles on a thin piece of board are literally taunting her. Why has this board game, her favorite board game, suddenly decided to make itself so difficult for her?

She hurriedly puts down her next word, hoping that Poe doesn’t notice just how flustered those four tiles have made her.

 _Difficult, difficult man_.

* * *

They cap off the night with Netflix. Like so many times before, they settle onto the couch and Poe throws a blanket over them. She’s cold-natured by default, and she gives him a brief smile before snuggling deeper into it. Then Poe pulls up The Good Place to continue their binge watch.

She hasn’t the heart to tell him that when he worked late earlier that week, she had taken her laptop to her room and binge watched the rest of the season.

But it’s their show, so she really has no desire to tell him that, especially not when she gets to enjoy his reactions. And especially not when she gets to enjoy his presence at her side, the warm, woodsy scent of him as his arm comes up to rest on the couch behind her, and it’s all so soothing, so relaxing—

The next thing she knows is a quiet swish of motion. She struggles to open her eyes, when all she wants to do is go back to sleep. She nuzzles her nose into something soft, the clean scent of laundry detergent hitting her nose, and she feels more than hears a sharp intake of breath beneath her ear.

It comes to her slowly, her senses fogged by sleep—sleep, yes. She must have fallen asleep on the couch. She never falls asleep so easily. But now, she thinks she must be in Poe’s arms, his scent so familiar, as he carries her.

She’s set down on something soft and a familiar blanket is tucked around her.

Poe had carried her to her bed.

A hand strokes her hair back from her forehead, combing through her hair gently. His voice washes over her, soft and soothing. “Goodnight, sunshine.”

She smiles into the pillow blissfully and drifts off to sleep.


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the second day of being snowed in, she sits down on the sofa next to him, and together they flip through Netflix, trying to decide what to watch.
> 
> Within minutes, she finds herself relaxing into the couch more and more as she and Poe giggle along with some comedy, her body slumping into his as they settle in more comfortably. His arm comes up around her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, and if it wasn’t so agonizing how perfectly they fit together, she thinks she would find herself incredibly and completely content in this moment.
> 
> But she isn’t. Because it could never be.

The second morning she wakes—for once, blessedly, by herself and not due to her alarm—and hears nothing but quiet throughout the apartment. Even without her alarm she’s usually an early riser, but Poe . . . Poe would sleep in till noon if Bee would let him.

And for now, the apartment is blissfully quiet. Bee must have decided to sleep in too.

She decides it’s a good time to do some yoga. Her dreams from last night, of Poe and his plush lips, his strong and capable hands, those lips and hands on _her_ . . .

She finds herself a little on edge this morning.

She slips on her yoga pants and a tank top and opens her door quietly, hoping to keep Poe from waking up. He deserves a chance to sleep in. And as long as he sleeps in, she can use the television out front and the wide-open space in front of it to do her workout without worrying about bothering him.

(She decidedly does not think about the time, just two weeks ago, she had gone out for drinks after her and Rose’s weekly yoga class. Finn had met up with them, and Rose was telling Finn about some new pose the teacher had them try.

“Of course Rey managed to get herself into the pose on the first try,” Rose had huffed playfully. Though when Finn had asked Rose for details, the girls could only stutter through some half-baked explanation of the pose, Finn’s expression growing more and more confused.

Rose just sighed, giving up. “I’ll show you later.” Then she leered at Rey. “And maybe you could give Poe a demonstration of that flexibility too.”

Rey had felt her cheeks flush and threw a balled up napkin at her friend, all the while Finn laughed.)

But for now, the living room is dark when she enters, and she opens the curtains half-way to let the morning light spill in. As she takes a peek through the blinds, she sees the ground blanketed in white, snow still falling from the sky.

She grabs her mat and flicks it open to lay on the floor before pulling up her favorite yoga video. It’s not the same as her favorite class, but she lets out a cleansing breath as she settles on the floor, legs crossed, already feeling herself relax. Just the idea of working out eased some of the aching tension that had built in her overnight.

But then the front door opens, and she’s tackled onto her back by 25-pounds of corgi, the soft fur chilly beneath her hands even as Bee’s warm tongue darts out and licks at her face.

“What are you doing?” Poe calls out over his shoulder as he takes off his heavy coat and works his hands free of his gloves.

“What am I doing?” She thinks he’s teasing her about ending up on her back from the squirming, wiggly corgi. It’s not her fault that Bee moves like a pro-football player in the Superbowl when he gets excited about something. Poe should know better. He’s ended up flat on his back from Bee’s excitement more than once. “It’s your dog.”

“No, I meant,” and Poe waves a hand at her as she rises and dusts herself off from where she’s sure she’s covered in dog fur, as Bee bounds off to his food bowl, “that.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “That?” Poe’s not exactly known for his brevity. Why use one word when you can use ten?

Yet her silver-tongued roommate just makes another flapping motion at her, but then he’s pulling off his cap, his sleep tousled hair only growing more rumpled as it comes off, which somehow makes him even _more_ attractive?

This is all a nightmare.

“Why are you dressed like you’re going to work out?”

She blinks at him. “Cause I was planning to work out?”

“Uh-uh.” Poe looks almost affronted. “Nope. Not happening when we’re trapped inside on a snow day.”

“If I’m not going to work out, what am I supposed to do? This is the second day we’re stuck in here!”

“It’s a snow day. You’re not supposed to be productive. Now go get changed. We got couch potatoing to be doing.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “That’s not even a word!”

“Are you sure? I feel like it’s a word.” Poe taps his chin, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging his lips upward, apparently still intent on teasing her about their Scrabble game yesterday.

She’ll get her revenge soon enough. Still, she points a finger at him. “You know it’s not!”

“If you’re so sure, you know what to do.”

She growls out something unintelligible as she stomps off to her room.

Still, a minute later, she’s leaving her bedroom in an old t-shirt and her favorite pair of sweatpants, her feet clad in a pair of her warmest, coziest, and absolute ugliest socks. The fact that her impossibly attractive, out-of-her-league roommate doesn’t like her like _that_ has turned out to also be incredibly freeing—not that she ever put much stock into dressing up, unless Rose and Jannah were “encouraging” her to do so for girls night out. But since Poe isn’t interested in her, she doesn’t find herself worrying at all about what she wears, so her options for dress are almost limitless.

And if she’s going to be “couch-potatoing,” well, she’s gonna be comfortable.

She snags her hoodie from the back of a kitchen chair and walks into the living room to find Poe sprawled out on the couch, legs up on the coffee table in front of him, and a plethora of snacks around him.

He pats the sofa next to him. “Your throne, your highness.”

She sits down on the sofa next to him, and together they flip through Netflix, trying to decide what to watch.

Within minutes, she finds herself relaxing into the couch more and more as she and Poe giggle along with some comedy, her body slumping into his as they settle in more comfortably. His arm comes up around her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, and if it wasn’t so agonizing how perfectly they fit together, she thinks she would find herself incredibly and completely content in this moment.

But she isn’t. Because it could never be.

* * *

By that evening (after another Scrabble game, they just couldn't help themselves, both of them enjoy the competition too much) they’re once again parked on the couch and pulling up Brooklyn 99. Only this time Poe’s made his “galaxy-famous” strawberry daiquiris. Apparently they were galaxy famous if only for the sparkly crazy straws he plopped in each one.

But he let her have her favorite sparkly yellow straw, so she didn’t tease him too much for his delusions of grandeur.

She decides she might be a little drunk when she giggles way too long when Amy mentions “Why doesn’t your mouth work?” only to have Jake call it the name of their sex tape, only to hastily correct himself.

As if Jake’s feelings for Amy weren’t already clear.

Poe grins up at her from where his head rests in her lap as they watch TV. Or, where it would be resting, if she wasn’t shaking so much with laughter.

“C’mon, sunshine,” he says, rolling off of her less than gracefully. He might be a little drunk too. “Let’s get some ice cream.”

She barely has enough time to stutter out “What?!” before he’s pulling her off the couch. “It’s too cold for that!”

He rolls his eyes at her. “It’s not too cold for it! We’re inside!”

She’s got enough booze in her bloodstream to no longer protest—as if she would continue to protest anyway, her brain already fully on board for an ample amount of the sweet treat. And Poe lives up to her sweet tooth’s expectations as he pulls out not one, not two, but three different pints of ice cream, then the syrup, whipped cream, and cherries.

He studies the smorgasbord of toppings and then suddenly claps his hands together. “Wait!” Apparently he’s not done either as he practically skips over to the pantry to grab the sprinkles.

Within moments, she has made the messiest, most glorious sundae possible, the bowl practically overflowing with ice cream and toppings. She hops up on the counter to enjoy her bowl, while Poe reclines next to her, his left elbow leaning on the counter, inches from her knee.

“Cheers!” Poe raises his own heaping bowl and gently taps it against hers as he gives her a crooked grin.

“To the best snow days ever.” She digs in before she can do something goofy, like telling him just how attractive that crooked grin of his really is.

Before she can get too deep into her bowl, their phones ping at the same time with an incoming message, saving her from any future thoughts along that path too.

She grabs for hers—momentarily fumbling it, her fingers less than graceful from the alcohol and the chill from the bowl—and swipes it open to discover an incoming message from their group text.

It’s Paige, Rose’s older sister.

Rey reads it and practically chokes on her ice cream.

Paige, newly-single, has sent them a screenshot of the most unbelievably horrific dating profile she’s ever seen. It’s simultaneously cringeworthy and terrifying in equal measure. She’s not exactly certain where the dark haired man surrounded by black walls posing in high-waisted pants and glowering in front of a mirror falls exactly, but she’s certain it’s somewhere between the “guy who tries to neg all the girls at the bar” and “serial killer.”

Honestly, serial killer might be the right answer.

Rose seems to agree, as she immediately replies _NoOoOoOoOoOoO!!!!!_

Finn’s message comes through with more than a few exclamation points and vomiting emojis.

Poe’s laughing too hard to properly respond, so Rey does it for both of them.

_Paige!!! We were eating!!!_

_Sorry not sorry_ , Paige replies. _But if I had to see it, so did all of you_.

 _I hate you._ Rose apparently does not forgive her older sister.

After a few more rounds of texts, Rey tosses her phone aside.

Poe gives her a cheeky grin. “Hopefully that didn’t put you too much off your food.”

Rey just gives him a reproaching look. As if anything could put her off her food. She has an iron stomach after all.

Still, she groans. “What is even the point of those apps if you get guys like that as options?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve never been on one of those apps?”

“Have you?” At Poe’s snort of laughter, she pushes at his shoulder. “You have! Meet anyone nice?”

“Ugh, no. I’m uh—I don’t think I’m really cut out for those types of apps.” At her raised eyebrow, he explains. “It’s just a few pictures and maybe a few words. You can’t really feel if there’s a connection you know? I prefer getting to know someone in person.”

She covers her face with her hand as she giggles. “You really are such a romantic, you know? A huge fucking romantic.”

He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “I’ll admit it. Yes, I am.” He scoops another bite of ice cream into his mouth, looking thoughtful. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

“What’s that?”

“Ever used one of those apps? Created a profile?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Found anyone interesting?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why’s that?”

Poe looks genuinely curious at her answer. It’s not surprising. Poe’s always been one of the most attentive, sincere people she knows. And he told her the truth, so the least she can do is reply in kind.

But she can’t quite find the words, and she can’t really tell him the _whole_ truth, so she just sits there, staring out into the kitchen and most decidedly away from Poe.

“Creepers?”

He has a point, but that’s not exactly why. She shakes her head again. “Yes but no.”

“Rather know them in person first too?”

That’s also a solid point against those dating apps. But still, she shakes her head again.

“Serial killers? People who say they’re 25 but are really 50? No way to know if they have terrible breath?”

She huffs a laugh.

Poe takes a step closer, nudging her knee with his arm. “C’mon Rey, you can tell me.” His smile is persuasive, encouraging, and his eyes so warm. “Is it because you’ve already found someone?” He does a little full-body shimmy, his arm bumping against her again. “You’ve got someone you’re interested in?”

That . . . hits a little too close to home. But he’s looking at her so eagerly as he waits for an answer. She can’t lie to him, but she also can’t tell him the truth. She manages to summon up just enough courage to whisper a single word. “Maybe.” She turns her face away from him as she can feel her face heating, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he must be able to see it all written on her face.

“Oh.” It’s only a single word, but Poe’s voice is soft and . . . and something she can’t quite place her finger on. She manages a quick glance out of the corner of her eye just long enough to see some shadow cross his face before returning to what it had been before.

After that, the ice cream sits heavy in her stomach.

She can’t quite meet his eyes for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the third day of being snowed in, Poe's acting weird and Rey has no idea why.
> 
> But in the end, the truth always comes out.

If she could punch the window, she would.

Or more accurately, punch the sun.

She snorts at the thought, then immediately winces at the movement. Her head aches, her mouth is dry and frankly tastes awful, but at least she’s not nauseous. Nothing a little—well, a lot of—water won’t fix. But first, she has to get out of bed.

She’s never been much of a morning person, despite her tendency to get up and at ’em as early as possible. But the moments between waking up and getting that first sip of coffee into her bloodstream has always been the worst part of her day.

And now, with her blackout curtains still hanging open from the day before, and the bright, blinding sunlight glinting off the snow reflecting back into her bedroom, well . . .

Yeah. She would definitely punch the sun if she could.

She pads into the kitchen and notices the lights are off and the coffee maker is silent and bereft of her favorite nectar. Poe must not be up yet either. Like her, he’s not exactly at his best before coffee. She tries to remember if he had more to drink than her last night. She’s more than a little jealous that he’s apparently managed to sleep in at least.

Still, by the time the machine finishes sputtering out the last of the coffee into the pot, she hears Poe’s bedroom door click open and then the clacking of paws against the tiles, followed closely by soft footsteps.

Poe arrives in the kitchen blinking against the light, a hand scrubbing over his face. Then he stops in his tracks, his hand falling to his side. “Oh.” And a beat later, “I didn’t realize you were already up.”

“Yep. Needed water and coffee.” She gestures to the coffee pot. “There’s plenty. Help yourself.”

He blinks at her and swallows harshly, his throat bobbing with the movement. She has the disquieting feeling that he’s . . . well, she’s not sure exactly what’s going on, but whatever it is, it is definitely odd.

Then again, if he’s anything like her, he’s probably hungover and in desperate need of coffee before he can get his brain fully online today.

But instead he just claps his hands together once and the corgi practically comes hopping over to him. “Let’s take you on your walk.”

At the w-word, the corgi becomes even more excitable, squirming even as Poe snaps the leash on his collar and they head out the door.

Rey shrugs and returns to her coffee, beginning to scroll through the morning news on her phone. He’ll be more awake once he’s gotten several lungfuls of the winter-crisp air outside.

Fifteen minutes later the door opens and closes, both owner and his dog shaking themselves to rid themselves of a fine dusting of snow and the lingering chill. Bee gallops over to her, jumping up with his paws against her legs to receive his morning scritches, before running off to his water bowl.

“How was the walk?”

Poe simply shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack by the front door. “It was fine.”

“No morning antics? No other dogs to bark at and tell hello? No attempts to go on some wild adventure?” She glances over at the corgi who’s currently waiting to be fed. “I’m surprised at you, Bee.”

However, the corgi is more interested in sniffing at the container of food than to dignify Rey with a response, ignoring the rest of them until Poe walks over and pours out a cupful.

The corgi barely waits for Poe to finish pouring before he’s digging in, monching away with such intensity and focus, as if this was the single most exciting thing he’s ever beheld in his life.

“And what about you? You hungry? Want some breakfast?” Rey asks, grinning over at Poe.

This is usually the part where Poe will pour himself a cup of coffee and begin putting together breakfast. He’s the cook of their household. They all know better than to let her cook. If he’s not too hungover, it’ll be a big hearty breakfast, eggs and toast and bacon, maybe some fruit, and whatever else he thinks to whip up.

Though if he’s too hungover to stomach such a large meal, it’ll be cereal and milk, or maybe some pop-tarts if he’s feeling fancy.

He likes the strawberry ones, but he’ll always put her favorite, brown sugar and cinnamon, in the toaster first.

“Not really,” he says, his voice is bland and monotone, as he walks over to the coffee pot and pours a cup. “I need to call my dad. Haven’t checked in with him in a while.”

He walks out of the kitchen, leaving her, befuddled and bewildered, at her seat, her coffee mug halted halfway to her mouth.

Rey blinks after him, stunned. She’s never heard him sound like that. And he didn’t even put milk into his coffee like he always does.

Even Bee has halted mid-bite, suddenly still and silent, as he watches his owner walk away.

Poe’s definitely acting weird.

And she has no idea why.

* * *

Poe wanders out later and throws together a mid-morning peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s one of his comfort foods. Maybe he’s just feeling run down?

She knows what will cheer him up. “Hey, you wanna watch some more Brooklyn 99?”

“Nah.” He pours a cup of milk and grabs his plate. “Think I’m just gonna go read for a while.”

Then he heads back to his room, his door softly closing behind him.

* * *

“Wanna play Super Mario Brothers?” she asks from her space on the couch, as her four-legged friend strolls around the corner, followed moments later by Poe.

It’s one of his favorite things to play. And a little friendly competition is something they always enjoy. If this can’t pick up his mood, nothing will.

His eyes dart between her and the television and he . . . he flinches?

“Maybe later?” His voice makes it pretty clear that later probably won’t happen either. It’s not mean exactly, just . . . cautious. Weary, even.

She just stares at him as he slips in and out of the kitchen before heading back to his room.

“Poe!” She calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sunshine. I’m fine.” The smile he gives her, soft and sad, tells her that he’s anything but.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” She’s cried on his shoulder often enough, ranted and raved to him as he listened patiently when something went terribly wrong in her life. And she’s done the same for him.

“Of course I know that. What are friends for?” He tries to make that smile brighter, but she knows.

He’s lying to her. And he’s not doing a very good job of it.

She thinks furiously back on the night before. They were having a great time, talking and laughing and just hanging out, and then suddenly this morning he’s just gone . . . quiet.

_What the hell was going on?_

* * *

Rey stands at the window, staring outside as she turns the last few days over in her mind. The snow had stopped falling that morning and the sky was clear, the bitter cold slowly being replaced with something a bit less frigid as the sun shone brightly overhead.

There’s still plenty of white, fluffy snow covering the ground, and she realizes with a jolt of sadness that they haven’t been outside once to play in it.

Well, Bee has been out in it, but walking through a trench to take a potty break isn’t the same as playing in it. And she’ll admit that, having grown up in the American southwest with her foster father, she’s much more used to dry, blistering hot days than these frigid temperatures.

But still, she likes the snow. And Poe, having grown up in New England after his parents retired from the military, loves it.

He can’t say no to building a snowman, right? And maybe ordering a pizza for after now that the roads have been cleared?

She strides down the hallway and knocks on his door, and hears the gentle tip taps of an excited corgi heading to the door to greet her. Moments later, it opens, and Poe is standing there, eyes tired and his jaw lined in thick stubble.

He gives her a smile at least, even if it looks far more tired than she’s ever seen on the normally energetic man. “What’s up?”

It’s a less than enthusiastic question from him, but she doesn’t let it phase her. “C’mon, the weather’s looking nice. Let’s go outside and play.”

“What?”

“We can make a snowman. I promise to not even give Bee all the carrots before we get to the nose.”

He shrugs, and hems and haws while not making any eye contact with her at all.

“Poe, seriously. What’s going on?” If she did something to offend him, she needs to know. The last thing she’d ever want to do is something that hurts him.

He just sighs and shakes his head, giving her a small, sad grin. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Did I do something?” Her voice comes out meek. She hates it. But she hates being uncertain about her place in someone’s life, and theirs in hers. She doesn’t want to lose him. It’s such an awful thought she can’t even bear to think about it.

“No!” He protests, reaching out to her, but his hand stops inches from her arm. She sees him wince. It’s just a little, but it’s there, even as he says, “No, of course not. It’s not you.”

That wince, that hand pausing in mid-air, tells her it is though. Somehow it is her, but why?

For as much as her voice sounded meek with fear just moments before, she can also be very, very stubborn.

She catches his wrist in her hand and says, her voice firm and just a touch angry, “You. Me. Outside now.”

Resigned, he follows behind her as they walk outside, stopping as they get to the edge of the field.

She takes a few more steps away from him, and before he has the time to say or do anything else, she quickly leans over.

Then she’s unleashing her first snowball. It hits him squarely in the middle of his chest.

His eyes are wide as he stares down at where it hit, a fine white powder covering the front of his coat. Then he glances up at her.

“C’mon, it’s a snow day, Poe! You love these days! You should have some fun.”

He stills looks uncertain though.

Well, if he’s going to be like this . . . “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you yet?” It’s a challenge and a plea all in one.

“Rey,” he sighs softly, but makes no move to say anything else.

She just leans over and picks up another handful of snow and packs it in her hands.

He juts his chin towards her handful of snow. “You really wanna do this?”

She nods. Maybe he won’t tell her what’s going on, but maybe, somehow, this can help them get past whatever this weirdness is that’s developed between the two of them.

He nods back.

And then it’s on.

The two dash around, running for cover, packing snowballs in their hands before tossing them at each other. Flecks of white get caught in her braid, on her coat, and she can feel the growing dampness in her boots as she dives behind a large pile to evade more than one snowball tossed by Poe.

Finally, they’re having fun together again, laughing and joking and heckling each other as they enjoy the snow. Things seem lighter between them now. Things seem better.

So she wasn’t ready for the sadness and disappointment that swelled in her when it didn’t last.

Barely ten minutes have passed when they pause, both panting heavily, chests heaving and faces red. A smile graces his face even now, as he leans over, resting his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

Then he lifts his eyes to meet hers, and there’s something, _something_ there, but then that smile fades and his eyes are shrouded in misery once more.

He stands and rubs the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I think . . . I think I’m going to head inside. It’s pretty cold out here.” He even makes a show of rubbing his arms with his hands. “Gonna get something hot to drink and maybe catch a nap.”

He may be standing in front of her right now, but in every other way, it feels like he’s gone. She huffs, exasperated, as she follows him inside, hanging their coats by the door. But when he turns away from her to head towards the kitchen, she can’t stop herself from shouting at his back, “Fine. You don’t have to tell me what’s bugging you. It’s just I don’t understand why. What’s going on?” Her voice catches on a repressed sob. “What did I do?”

And there it is. Every fear of hers laid out in that one question. She may not have said it in so many words but Poe—

Poe knows her better than almost anyone else. There’s Finn and Rose and him. It’s always been them.

He knows her.

So why is he leaving her?

Except Poe is whirling around, his face falling as he quickly strides towards her and grips her arms in his hands. “No! No, it’s not you. You did nothing, I promise.”

“Then why are you being so cold with me?”

There’s a war being waged in his eyes, his shoulders rising and falling as he pulls in deep lungfuls of air, and then he stills. It seems as if he’s come to some decision, but about what she doesn’t know.

He releases her arms and takes a step back. “I don’t mean to be cold. I really, really don’t. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. But today? God, today.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Last night you told me there was someone you were interested in, and God, can you really blame me? I wish so badly it was me.”

_What?_

That’s . . . that’s absurd.

“Are you—Poe, are you messing with me?”

She knows, absolutely and completely, that he would never do that to her, not about this. But Poe wishes it was him? It’s almost too much to comprehend.

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Of course not, Rey. I would never do something like that.” He drags his hands over his face and lets out a little weary sigh. He looks so very sad right now, it breaks her heart. “Wasn’t it obvious? I’m not exactly known for being a good liar.”

“I know. I know you’re a terrible liar.” She shakes her head incredulously. “At least that’s what everyone tells me. But I’ve never been able to read you, Poe.” She laughs, a sharp noise of wonder and not a little befuddlement. She’s always been terrible at reading him. At least, she thought she couldn’t.

He shifts on his feet, and his eyes soften even as he gives her a rueful grin. “I guess I just needed some time to wrap my head around it. I don’t want to act like some grumpy jealous guy towards the person I’m in love with, just because they’re interested in someone else. I just want you to be happy.”

“Poe, you always make me happy even when you’re grumpy and—” She stops talking and blinks, as it finally hits her. “Wait. What did you say?”

Poe’s eyes look so lost, so forlorn, but still, he knows what she’s asking, so he tells her again. “I love you.”

And maybe it’s because she hasn’t had a lot of good things in her life. And maybe she’s been so focused on her feelings for him and how they messed with her mind that it was impossible to tell what _he_ has been thinking all along, or maybe she had been too scared to believe it was true, not with her heart on the line. But now he was standing in front of her and—

_Oh._

_He loves her._

And she’s just staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights of what must be the most massive 18-wheeler truck ever, or maybe something even bigger, like one of those oversized loads you see taking up both lanes of the highway, or a military tank, cause she’s standing there like some idiot just staring at him.

His face falls, sad and aching but accepting. She sees his lips quirk up as if he might try to comfort her, to apologize, as if to make the gut punch of her rejection of him easier for _her_ to take.

It’s that which finally startles her out of her shock and has her moving.

She takes a step towards him, even as his own foot stutters half a step back, and then she’s blurting out, “I love you.”

Now they’re both stunned silly.

Poe is blinking at her, his mouth a soft “O” of surprise, and her hand stops just inches from his chest as she reaches out to him.

She says it again. “I love you.” Then she laughs, a sound of pure amazement, those words tasting delicious on her tongue. “I love you.”

“Really? You love me?” She nods, never once breaking his gaze. That hopeful look on his face has her bridging the gap between her hand and his chest, the fabric of his sweater soft under her palm as she slides it up onto his shoulder. His hand comes up to clasp her wrist, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin along her pulse, and it’s all she can do not to kiss him right now.

But luckily Poe is right there with her, his gaze dropping to her lips, back to her eyes, then back to her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I might be a little upset if you didn’t.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just quirks his lips upward in amusement as he moves in a step closer. His hand, the one not gripping her wrist gently, her pulse fluttering rapidly under his thumb, comes up to stroke her cheek before sliding down to cradle the nape of her neck and then—

Oh, his lips are soft and warm as they meet hers, and it takes her breath away, even if they don’t quite get the angle right immediately. But then she tilts her head just so, her hand sliding down to his waist to pull him closer, and then suddenly it’s so, so right, so perfect, and the kiss deepens until all she knows is Poe.

She’s not sure of how much time has passed—a minute or an eternity, she can’t be bothered with something so silly as time when she’s lost in him—when they both pull away panting.

“That was . . .”

“Yeah.”

And she’s not sure who moved back in first, maybe it was her, maybe it was him, but then her hands are in his hair, and his hands are gripping her hips pulling her closer, his fingertips digging in in just the way she likes. By the time his tongue slips in to touch hers, she’s pressed tight against him, her hips grinding into his.

It certainly doesn’t help that she’s been imagining this for so long, how he would taste against her lips, the way his curls would feel between her fingers, the way his strong body would feel pressed against hers, and now she actually gets to know what it’s like.

She breaks the kiss, Poe’s lips chasing after hers before moving down to press fevered kisses against her jaw, her neck, that spot just beneath her ear that has a gasp catching in her throat.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” she groans out.

She groans again when Poe stops kissing her immediately, his eyebrows jumping up his forehead and an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Too fast?”

She’s almost affronted. She’s waited this long, and she wanted to see if maybe he wanted to take this further, take this somewhere more comfortable—but maybe it’s too fast for him? She knows he’s the self-described romantic type, so she stills her hands where they’ve been pawing at his shoulders just long enough to say, “No, absolutely not. Unless . . . it’s too fast for you? We can slow down.”

Poe darts in to press a searing kiss to her mouth. Well, guess that answers that question.

Somewhere between Poe sucking kisses along the column of her throat, and her working her hands beneath his sweater to finally touch his back, feel his muscles rippling beneath her hand, she drags his lips back to hers and finally gets around to what she had really been meaning to ask before.

“Your bedroom or mine?” she whispers against his lips.

Turns out, he didn’t need to answer that. His bedroom is a few steps closer than hers, and as they stumble down the hallway, their pace slow and unsteady as they keep kissing and touching and in one memorable moment, Poe pressing her against the wall and taking her breath away while they grind together, until finally she pushes him into his room.

But when she reclines against his bed, Poe just stares at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and heady, his thumb brushing his lip as he studies her.

She squirms under his attention, feeling overheated, until finally she reaches a hand towards him. “C’mon, what are you waiting for?” she teases.

Poe shakes his head. “I just want to remember this. Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, wanted to show you how I feel.”

She feels her face flush, feels the heat spread down, deep into her core. She wants to ask how long, because it feels like eons, an eternity, for her. But the thought is quickly thrown to the wayside as Poe finally joins her on the bed, his weight pressing into her deliciously as his scent envelopes her.

She’s known him for a long while now, feels like she’s really known him even longer, their souls being so much alike, but here as they bare themselves before each other, she feels like she’s learning him in a whole new way, as he learns about her too.

There’s the way he studies her body and finds her sweet spots so easily, under her ear, her collarbone, that space just under her breasts. There’s the way she learns how he likes the feeling of her nails against his scalp, her fingers tugging at his curls, or running down the long length of his back that she’s been so eager to feel under her hands.

It’s sweet and filthy and hot all at the same time, the way he works at her with his lips and his tongue and his fingers, the way she presses him back against the mattress when it’s her turn to explore. And for all that she had worried about losing her best friend if he ever found out about her feelings for him, it seems that both of them slip into this new role so, so easily.

And when he slips into her, and those words slip out of his mouth again, echoed by her own, the only thought that crosses her mind is how could they have ever waited so long to do this.

When they finally collapse back into the mattress, she throws an arm over her eyes as she pants in an effort to catch her breath.

It’s only when her heartbeat has finally slowed, Poe’s hand caressing her arm softly, that she can finally roll over to look at him properly. She props herself up on her elbow so she can really study him, so she can commit this all to memory, those flushed cheeks and red kiss-bitten lips, the full expanse of his tanned skin laid bare before her.

He strokes a finger along her cheekbone and down her jaw, and she turns just enough to sneak a kiss to that questing finger and says, “I love you.”

His smile turns soft and wonderous. She never thought he would ever look at her quite like this and it sends a flood of warmth through her. “I love you,” he says, that smile only growing brighter. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to say that.”

“How long?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “So very long.”

“No, really. How long?” She’s been in love with him for ages it feels like. How much time did they waste? But as his look turns a little shy, she decides to be the bold one. He’s the one who confessed his feelings earlier that brought them to this point. It’s the least she can do now. “You wanna know when I figured it out?”

She feels her cheeks flush when he says “I want to know everything about you,” and she can’t help but lean down to kiss him again.

“I realized that day when me and Finn had that little house party and we were playing charades, and you were on my team, and it was like—I didn’t have to say a word, but you just got me. It was like you could read me like an open book and I . . . I realized I wasn’t afraid of that at all.”

She sees the moment when Poe remembers. Sees the moment when he realizes that was barely two months after they had met for the first time when he had rushed in when she was making a mess almost burning down her and Finn’s kitchen.

That was almost a year ago.

Poe’s voice is soft, incredulous, as he asks, “Really?” She nods, biting her lip. Poe just brings his thumb to pull it free from between her teeth before leaning up to press a quick kiss to her mouth. He reclines again, his smile bright and open. “Mine was when I brought Bee over to your apartment for the first time so you could meet him. And you just got right down on the floor and Bee crawled into your lap. I already knew you were brilliant and beautiful, but at that moment? I realized at that moment just how kind and good your heart was. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger ever since then.”

She laughs, a bit wondrously. That must have been a week or two at most before the game of charades. “So what you’re saying is we’ve both been in love with each other for the past year.”

Poe nods.

“Probably even longer.”

Poe nods once more.

“And we could’ve been doing this . . .”

Poe just grins and nods again.

She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “We’ve really wasted a lot of time.”

“Guess you know what that means?”

She quirks an eyebrow and watches as Poe’s face morphs into something downright wicked.

And then she’s laughing as he grabs her around the waist and he’s tumbling her onto her back, his body arching over hers once again.

“Guess we have a lot of time to make up for.”

She likes the sound of that.


End file.
